


Second Chance, Once removed

by Creej



Series: Gone Too Far [4]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Case Fic, Gen, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-08 01:32:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12853839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creej/pseuds/Creej
Summary: Neal sees a familiar face but is it who he thinks it is?





	Second Chance, Once removed

**Author's Note:**

> This is a part of the Gone Too Far series.

Neal stretched out the kinks in his back and shoulders that came from being hunched over his desk studying another in a seemingly endless line of mortgage fraud, embezzlement and money laundering cases.

"Go on Caffrey, get out of here," Diana said, stopping by on her way out.

Neal gave an exaggerated sigh of relief then grinned at his handler. "I'll probably dream in math tonight," he said, gathering his things.

"Trust me Caffrey, _everyone_ hates those kinds of cases," Diana said as they pushed through the doors. "You get them because you're the best at them."

"Oh I'm not complaining...much," Neal said. "But you can't blame me for wanting something a little more exciting."

"Well, maybe we'll get a good art heist soon," Diana said with an impish smile.

"Or forgery," Neal said. "That's where I really shine."

"I'll see you tomorrow," Diana said as they parted at the lobby.

Neal gave her a two finger salute in parting and made his way to the subway station, absently appraising the jewelry of his fellow passengers as he rode.

The door opened as he climbed the steps at June's. "Mr. Neal, you have a visitor."

"Thank you Louisa," Neal said, frowning slightly. As he climbed the stairs to the loft, he wondered who could be waiting for him. Not Elizabeth since he knew she had a major event that evening, Moz really didn't merit a mention since he was a frequent visitor and Peter...well, he hadn't seen Peter's ghost in years and Louisa wouldn't have been able to see him anyway.

He immediately saw the figure standing by the terrace doors when he entered. "Hello?" When the figure surned, he stumbled back a step when he saw the face. "Peter?"

"Oh...no, no, not Peter," the man said. "My name is Johnathon Engle. I'm Peter's twin brother."

"Peter didn't have a twin," Neal said.

"I didn't know either," Johnathon said. "Not until about ten years ago."

Neal shook himself, realizing he was staring. "I'm sorry," he said. "Please, sit down. Drink?"

"Looks like you need one more than I do," Johnathon said. "But I"d appreciate a beer if you have one." He nodded toward the winerack. "Excellent selection you have."

"You know wine?" Neal asked, getting them each a beer before sitting across from him at the table.

"I'm no expert but I know good wine from cheap," Johnathon said. "And I enjoy a glass on occasion." He twisted the cap off, waiting patiently as Neal studied him.

"So, Peter's twin," Neal said, after a moment. "What brings you here?"

"Just transferred from the Cincinnati field office," Johnathon said. "My orders say I report to an Agent Berrigan on Monday."

That answered a few of Neal's million questions. "Why come to me?" he asked.

"Because you were his partner," Johnathon said.

"I was his CI," Neal said. "There's a difference."

"Semantics," Johnathon said. "I did some research when I found out where I was being transferred. Peter's closure rate was impressive enough but when you started working with him, they went to what? Ninety four percent? That's unprecedented in any division."

"My contribution was helping the team see the other side of a con or heist," Neal said. "Plus, I'm very good at finding patterns."

"Which makes you a good fit in White Collar," Johnathon said. "And I imagine your past makes you a natural at undercover."

"I've had my moments." Neal sipped his beer. "So, how much research have you done?"

"Enough to know Peter chased you for three years, that you were only convicted on bond forgery and Peter got you out on work release to help him catch the Dutchman," Johnathon said.

"And what do you know about Peter's death?"

"Official reports say he was killed in the line of duty," Johnathon said.

Neal noted the slight emphasis on the word 'official'. "Well, the official report is misleading," he said. "Truth is, Peter killed himself...because of something I did. I was a selfish bastard, pissed at him for things he couldn't control, for trying to tell me the truth and I refused to appreciate everything he did or tried to do for me."

"It was his decision," Johnathon said, seeming unfazed by what Neal had said. "He did what he did for reasons that were his own and it's not my place to judge. If you want to tell me the circumstances, I'll listen."

Neal relaxed, just then aware he'd been tense. "So, what about you?" he asked.

"Grew up in southwest Ohio, Dayton specifically. Graduated from the University of Dayton with a degree in Mathematics and Accounting, played minor league ball with the local team for a few seasons then quit to go to Quantico. I was lucky enough to be assigned to the Cincinnati office when I graduated."

"You were a pitcher, right?"

"How'd you know?"

"Peter was before he blew out his shoulder. Torn rotator cuff."

Johnathon winced in sympathy. "Ouch."

"So your life is very similar to Peter's," Neal said.

"Not unusual for twins, even those separated at birth and have no knowledge of each other," Johnathon said. "From liking the same things, to having similar occupations, to having spouses with the same name."

"You're married?" 

"Widower," Johnathon said. "My wife died about seven years ago. Cancer."

"I'm sorry," Neal said.

Johnathon gave him a nod. "So, what can you tell me about Agent Berrigan?"

"You don't want to know about Peter?"

Johnathon shrugged. "I can wait to get the details," he said. He let out a breath. "To be honest, I'm hoping to meet his wife someday," he said. "I figure between the two of you I can get all my questions answered."

"I'll let her know," Neal said. "So, Agent Berrigan. She was made ASAC when Peter died, she was his probie back in the day and didn't like me much at first. Now, she's my handler."

"There's more to the story." It was a statement, not a question.

"After Peter died, I ran," Neal said. "I still had a year left on my work release. I was wanted for a year then...I came to the decision to turn myself in. That put me back inside on a third strike. Spent a year in AdSeg since I'd been an informant then Diana - Agent Berrigan - approached me with the same deal: I serve out my time helping her close cases."

"And how long to you have left?"

"My sentence was twenty years," Neal said. "The DOJ knocked off five for prior service. In the last six, it's been reduced by another three, so worst case scenario, I have another six."

"What's she like?"

"She can be a hardass at times," Neal said. "But she's a good agent, one of the best and she's a good handler." He paused a moment, frowning a little. "Not that it's really relevant but she's also gay," he said.

Johnathon shrugged. "I don't find it relevant," he said. "If she's half as good as Peter then she's one hell of an agent."

"Peter liked smart," Neal said. "And all of the agents in the office are smart. If they weren't, Peter didn't want them there." His lips quirked in a smile. "I think he'd have liked the fact that you didn't go to Harvard though."

"I could have," Johnathon said. "I decided to stick close to home."

"Still have family in the area?"

"My dad," Johnathon said. "He's a retired engineer. Still lively though."

"How'd you find out about Peter? And why didn't you contact him?"

"Had a cancer scare myself," Johnathon said. "Doctors needed to know my history so Dad told me I was adopted and had a twin brother. As for why I didn't contact him..." His mouth quirked in a wry smile. "Well, Peter was something of a legend in the Bureau. I was afraid I'd built him up into something he wasn't. I didn't want to chance finding out he was some arrogant son of a bitch."

"I know the feeling," Neal said, thinking of his mother's one great lie - that of the hero cop father. "But Peter wan't like that. He was smart - real smart - and he knew it but didn't let it go to his head." He tilted his head a little. "I don't mean to come across as conceited but it took someone smart to keep up with me during the chase. Peter was the only one who could and it was hard keeping even one step ahead of him. He was a formidable opponent."

"But you liked working with him," Johnathon said.

"I did," Neal said. "There were times we seemed to be on the exact same wavelength - he didn't have to explain to me and I didn't have to explain to him." He smiled a little. "If he hadn't been such a dedicated agent, he'd have made a hell of a con."

Johnathon drained his beer and stood. "I should get going," he said. "I still have some unpacking to do." He hesitated a moment then said, "If you could tell the team...or at least those who know Peter..."

"I understand," Neal said. "I can do that."

Johnathon let out a breath and nodded. "Thank you," he said. "So I guess I'll see you Monday."

"It was nice meeting you," Neal said, taking the proffered hand. "A bit of a shock though..."

"Yeah...sorry about that."

 

Once Johnathon left, Neal hauled out his laptop and logged into the FBI database - he knew Diana could track his activity but he wasn't trying to hide anything. As he read, he grew more and more impressed. Top of his class in high school, college and Quantico - he'd requested the assignment to the Cincinnati field office. Minor league career was impressive as well - threw several no-hitters as a pitcher and had scouts from the nearby major league team ready to sign him as soon as he showed interest. They'd been disappointed when he'd opted to go to Quantico instead. His performance in the Cincinnati office was nothing to be ashamed of, having a very respectable personal closure rate of eighty percent. Good, but he knew Peter's had been a bit higher.

When he finished reading, he closed the laptop, wondering how he was going to tell Diana...and Elizabeth.

 

He got to the office a little early to do a bit more research and, even though he had no real interest in baseball, spent some time looking into Johnathon's career in the minors. The team he'd played for - the Dayton Dragons - had the longest sellout streak of any team, any sport, any league. He'd just pulled up a team photo when he heard Diana say, "I thought you hated baseball."

"Just doing a little research," Neal said. He let out a breath. "I need to talk to you. Privately."

She gestured for him to precede her to her office, waiting until he closed the door before asking, "All right, what is it?"

"First, are we getting a transfer? From the Cincinnati field office?"

"I haven't heard anything," Diana said, firing up her computer. "Hang on." She quickly logged in and brought up her email, seeing one marked 'Attention, Agent Diana Berrigan, ASAC, Financial Crimes Division, Manhattan Field Office.' She opened it, reading quickly. "Yeah, we are," she said. "Agent Johnathon Engle. How'd you know?"

"He was at June's when I got home yesterday," Neal said. He hesitated a moment. "Diana...he's Peter's twin brother."

"But Peter didn't have a twin," Diana said.

"May I?" Neal indicated her computer then called up Johnathon's team picture when she moved aside. He stood back, watching her expression when she got a good look. If he hadn't still been reeling a little himself, he'd have found it amusing.

"Peter never played baseball," Diana said.

"Not past college," Neal said. "Johnathon - Agent Engle - passed on going to the majors to go to Quantico."

"So why'd he go to see you?" Diana asked as Neal took the visitor's chair.

"He said it was because I was Peter's partner," Neal said.

"So he thought you'd know him better than most," Diana said. "Have you told Elizabeth?"

"I haven't," Neal said. "She had a major event last night so I couldn't then." He sighed. "To be honest, I'm not sure how to tell her."

"She deserves to know, more than anyone."

"I know," Neal said. "I just have to figure out out how." He sat back. "You want to tell the team?"

"I need to tell them we're getting a transfer," Diana said. "As far as him being Peter's twin, only Jones and Blake knew him besides the two of us." She looked out over the bullpen, seeing the two men in question and stepped out to get their attention. Once they entered the office - Jones leaning back against the wall with Blake beside him - she said, "I'll cut to the chase - we're getting a new transfer from Cincinnati."

Jones regarded her. "We've gotten transfers before," he said.

"This one's...different," Diana said. She turned her monitor so the other agents could see, letting the image speak for itself.

"That isn't...?" Blake began uncertainly.

"No, it isn't Peter," Diana said. "It's his twin brother. His name is Johnathon Engle and he's been transferred here. Neal met him yesterday and told me this morning. Since we're the only ones who knew Peter, I thought I'd give you a head's up. He reports Monday."

"This could get weird," Jones said.

"Yeah," Neal said. "I felt like I'd seen a ghost but from what I could find out, he seems like he'd be a good fit. His personal closure rate is almost as good as Peter's."

"You log into the database?" Diana asked.

"After he left," Neal said. "He was at the top of his class in high school, college and Quantico."

"And he went to Cincinnati?" Jones asked, sounding somewhat surprised.

"Close to home for him," Neal said. "He grew up in Dayton."

"He knew about Peter?" Diana asked.

"Said he found out about ten years ago," Neal said. "Didn't contact him because he didn't want to risk finding out Peter wasn't who he'd built him up to be. Seems Peter was something of a legend in the Bureau."

Diana turned the monitor back around. "From what I read, he'll be a good fit like Neal said." She sighed. "But yeah, I can see it being a little weird at first. We'll just have to remember it's not Peter despite how similar they are." She shooed them out. "All right, get to work."

With a nod, the three men left, Neal going back to the stack of cases still on his desk, most of which were verging on going cold and a few that were nearly frozen. It was these he tackled first.

He managed to put Johnathon out of mind as he worked - until Elizabeth called.

"Hey, you busy this evening? I could use your palate, if you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind at all," Neal said. "In fact, I need to talk to you."

"Oh? What about?"

Neal hesitated. "It's best if I tell you in person," he said.

"Sounds a bit ominous."

"No, no, nothing like that," Neal assured her. "It's...surprising."

"All right, I'll see you this evening," Elizabeth said. "Six okay?"

"I'll see you then."

Near the end of the day, he printed out a copy of Johnathon's file - including pictures - to show Elizabeth, half tempted to let it do the talking, hoping she'd be the one to broach the subject.

 

He was sitting, looking at the file when there was a knock on the door. Closing the folder, he put it aside and went to answer it. Elizabeth stood there, holding a rather large basket and a two-bottle wine tote. "New caterers?" he asked as she entered.

"A few," Elizabeth said, placing the basket on the table. "Plus...I have a few of my own efforts."

"Planning events isn't enough, you're going into catering?" Neal asked as she unpacked the basket.

"Oh no, my efforts are for after the taste test," Elizabeth said with a smile. "Organizing events is plenty work for me."

"I'd have cooked," Neal said.

"That's sweet of you but it was my turn," Elizabeth said. "So, tell me what you think." She handed him a toast point loaded with caviar and Neal dutifully took a bite then nearly spit it out. "That bad?"

"Way too salty," Neal said. "The caterer source from the cheapest company? Also, it tasted a little...old."

"Not the freshest, I take it. Okay, how about this one?"

As the time passed, he tried each of the samples and gave her his honest opinions as she took notes. Finally, the last bite was taken and the last note jotted and Elizabeth repacked the basket. She regarded him a moment then said, "You wanted to talk to me about something."

In response, Neal retrieved the file and slid it over to her. "Our new transfer," he said. "From Cincinnati." When she looked at him curiously he said, "Open it." He saw a flash of anger when she read the first page and saw the photo.

"Is this some sort of joke?" she asked a bit tightly.

"No joke Elizabeth," Neal said. "I'd never do that to you, you know that. I couldn't be that cruel."

She studied him a long moment, searching for the truth in his eyes. Finally, she nodded. "So, Peter had a twin," she said. "He never said anything."

"I don't think he knew," Neal said. He topped off their wineglasses and told her what little he knew, ending with, "He said he'd like to meet you, that between us he could find out everything he wants to know."

"I'll have to think about it," Elizabeth said, running her finger over the Bureau photo. She sighed. "It's been what? Eight years since Peter died but I still..."

"You still see him sometimes," Neal said. "Me too."

"Yeah," Elizabeth sighed. "I mean, I know it's not him...I know he's gone..."

Neal fiddled with his glass. "I know what you mean," he said. "I kept seeing Kate for months after the explosion even though I knew it couldn't be."

Elizabeth took a deep breath, sliding the file back over. "Tell him I'll think about it," she said. "I need time to process this."

"I'll let him know," Neal said.

 

Monday morning, Neal was in the office early, as were Diana, Jones and Blake, all waiting for Johnathon. Neal saw the others start when the elevator doors opened and Johnathon stepped off and pushed through the doors. He almost stopped short when he saw them before approaching them.

"I take it you're the ones who knew Peter," he said. He turned to Diana. "Agent Berrigan, I assume."

"Agent Engle," Diana said. "Welcome to White Collar New York."

Johnathon smiled slightly. "Look, I know this has to be...strange for you, for all of you, but I'm here to do a job. But I would ask for one thing - I have a lot of questions about Peter, what he was like..."

"We'll do our best to answer them," Diana said. She let out a breath. "There's a desk by Neal's, it yours. Neal...let's see if you work as well with Agent Engle as you did with Peter. Meeting at eight."

"She was Peter's probie?" Johnathon asked as Neal showed him his desk.

"Yeah. Lost her to DC for about a year but Peter talked her into coming back," Neal said.

Johnathon gave him a nod and Neal saw him switch gears. "So, what have we got?"

"My favorite, cold cases," Neal said with a grin. He handed over a few. "As Diana said, welcome to White Collar New York."

"Right up my alley," Johnathon said. "I chose white collar so I could use my degree for something other than teaching."

"You didn't want to go the corporate route?"

"Not really the social type. I'd have hated all the schmoozing I'd have had to do."

"You know, Peter had an accounting degree," Neal said. "Got to use it undercover once."

"You'll have to tell me about it sometime," Johnathon said.

"Oh, there are stories I could tell you..." Neal said a bit impishly.

 

Eight o'clock came and they filed into the conference room where Diana handed them the next case. "Robbery at the Channing," she said. "Two days ago _Young Girl With Locket_ was taken...Neal?"

"I was afraid this could come back and bite me in the ass," Neal said on a sigh. "The painting in question is a reproduction."

"How do you know?"

"Because I painted it, my first year working with Peter," Neal said. "The original belongs to a woman named Julianna Laszlo, the granddaughter of the subject, Haustenber's illegitimate daughter."

"You're sure? Says here the painting was authenticated," Diana said.

"Probably because the curator - who's something of a pretentious ass, in my opinion - didn't want the museum in a court battle over ownership. There's an inscription on the back of the original that clearly states that Haustenberg wanted the painting to go to his daughter...the museum ignored it." He leaned forward. "Plus side is, whoever took the Channing's copy probably hasn't looked at the back...few thieves do."

"Well, reproduction or not, they want it back," Diana said.

"So we'll need to find out who had access," Johnathon said. "The various curators, guards, restorers, cleaning crew, docents."

"Why the docents?" Jones asked curiously.

"Because they're usually overlooked when it comes to museum employees," Johnathon said. "Despite them having the most contact with the public."

Diana gave him a nod. "All right, you and Neal go to the museum, get the files and the security tapes, Blake, you and Callahan go through financials and see if anyone's in debt far enough that the Haustenberg would look like a way out."

 

"I'm sorry sirs, you'll have to leave. The museum is closed."

"Agent Engle, FBI," Johnathon said, showing his badge to the somewhat harried looking older woman who'd spoken. "We're here about the stolen painting, _Young Girl With Locket_?"

"Oh yes, that. How can I help?"

"We'll need the security tapes from the time in question and the personnel files of all employees," Johnathon said.

The woman nodded and led them through the museum to the back rooms where her office and the surveillance room were located. "These will be returned?" she asked as she handed over the requested materials.

"As soon as we finish going over them," Johnathon said. "We'll keep you informed of our progress."

"Just find the painting."

As they drove back to the office, Neal began going through the files. "You get that from Peter?" Johnathon asked.

"Get what?"

"The urge to not waste a minute to solve a case," Johnathon said. "If he was that much like me, he was something of a workaholic."

Neal smiled. "I guess he rubbed off on me a little," he said. "And Peter wasn't a workaholic as such, he just tended to lose track of time when he had an interesting case. Fortunately, Elizabeth understood."

"Elizabeth. His wife, right?"

"Yeah." Neal was quiet a moment then said, "I talked to her a few days ago. She said she needed time to process. She was probably more shocked than anyone."

"I understand," Johnathon said. "It took me a while to process myself. When you talk to her again, tell her I can wait until she's ready. No rush."

"And your wife? What was her name?"

Johnathon's mouth quirked. "Mary Elizabeth," he said. "And, like Peter's wife, she understood if I got a bit lost in a case."

"Were you Catholic? Like Peter?"

"Episcopalian actually," Johnathon said. "Sort of...Catholic Lite." He shrugged a little. "I wasn't that active after Mel died though."

"Mel?"

"It's what I called my wife. I may have been a bit tipsy when I gave it to her but it stuck."

"Peter usually called his wife El," Neal said.

"The two of you are close?"

"We're...friendly," Neal said. "Just friends. I sometimes help her vet new caterers or help her with wine pairings."

"And what does she do?"

"Event planner. She and Peter met when the art gallery she used to work for was robbed. Peter was the case agent."

"I have about a million more questions but they'll have to wait," Johnathon said as they pulled into the FBI garage. "We have a case to work."

 

Once in the office, they essentially took over the conference room and started going through the files from the museum as Jones went over the security tape.

"Guys, I think we have something," he said a couple hours later. He cued up the tape and they saw a rather thin, petite woman with short hair emerging from one of the back rooms. He indicated the timestamp. "The museum had been closed for more than three hours by this time," he said.

"And she's playing the cameras," Johnathon said. "She knew where they were."

"She cased the place," Neal said.

"How long would it take to learn where the cameras are?" Diana asked.

"For me and Moz, not long. A few days," Neal said. "Me alone...maybe two weeks."

"For anyone else?"

Neal considered a few minutes. "Three, maybe four weeks."

Johnathon sifted through the files, discarding about half a dozen. "Forget these then," he said. "They haven't been there that long."

"We can eliminate the men as well," Jones said and more files joined the reject pile.

"That leaves...about two dozen still," Johnathon said. He passed half to Neal.

"How's it going with the financials?" Diana asked.

"So far, all we have is a few poor credit ratings, a couple who are behind on their house payments but nothing that would need a large amount of cash to settle," Blake said.

"What's the painting worth?" Johnathon asked.

"The original is worth two point five," Neal said. "My reproduction...quite a bit less." He opened another file and sighed. "Shit."

"Neal?"

He slid the file over to Diana. "Alexa Gardner," he said. "Or, as I know her, Tabitha Givens. She has the know how to pull this off."

"You worked with her?"

"Worked against her is more like it," Neal said. "To say she isn't a fan of mine is a bit of an understatement. We've gone after the same thing a few times..."

"But you got to it first," Jones said.

"Usually."

"You know where she might be?"

"She has more boltholes than Moz does," Neal said.

"Think he'd help?"

"I'll give him a call."

 

"Tabitha? You're sure?" Moz asked.

"Looking at her picture right now," Neal said.

"Hmmm. Heard she was back in town. Wasn't sure though."

"Any idea where she could be?" Neal asked.

"I have a few ideas. I'll let you know. So, what'd she take?"

"Something that isn't worth nearly as much as she thinks," Neal said. "My copy of the Haustenberg. Two days ago."

"And she probably doesn't know," Moz said. "She's a good thief but not smart. She would assume it's the real deal since it was on display."

"Yeah, she does just enough research to do the job and get away clean," Neal said. "All right, let me know what you find. Thanks Moz." Despite being out of the life, Neal knew his mentor, friend and partner in crime still had his contacts in the less than law-abiding community - a better source of information than any warrant or surveillance. "Moz is going to see if he can fine where she's holed up," Neal told Diana. "He may have something by the end of the day. If not, it shouldn't be more than a day or two."

"This Moz? He's resourceful?" Johnathon asked.

"That's putting it mildly," Diana said. "He's also a bit...eccentric."

"Come on, Diana," Neal said a bit teasingly. "He's a professional paranoid." Seeing Johnathon's interest, he explained. "Moz was my mentor when I first came to New York. Honed my talent you could say. He doesn't trust the government or its employees but he made an exception for Diana and Peter. That's why he's willing to help on this case. That and he really doesn't like Tabitha that much."

While they waited to hear back from Moz, they continued going over the financials of museum employees and Jones finished reviewing the security tape to see if their thief had a partner since Neal informed them she sometimes worked with one. He came up empty - Alexa/Tabitha had worked alone.

 

Neal had been home for about an hour when Moz called with news - Tabitha had been seen in Columbus Circle talking to someone Moz described as "more shady looking than a Fed." "And yes, I had her followed," Moz said. "You remember Benny? I had him tail her back to her hidey hole."

"And where is that?"

"Half a mile from Wednesday," Moz said and gave him the address.

"Thanks Moz," Neal said. "I'll let the team know in the morning."

 

The next day, Neal filled in the rest of the team and they settled in to come up with a plan.

"You and Moz have the best chance of getting close," Diana said.

"But you know Moz won't do it," Neal said. "He's better at behind the scenes - I was always the front man. I'm the best choice since Tabitha and I have a history, adversarial as it was."

"Is she violent?" Jones asked.

"No more than I was," Neal said. "She doesn't like guns either but she's not adverse to getting physical if she thinks it's necessary."

"Neutral meeting ground?"

Neal considered a long moment, working through the angles, outcomes, pros and cons before answering. "She probably won't talk in an area that's too public, like a park," he said. "And the background noise might mess up the audio. My reputation is still out there so it wouldn't surprise her that I'd know where she is. I'm thinking somewhere she'll feel safe, less guarded, like her apartment."

"All right," Diana said. "Watch or pen?"

"Watch," Neal said immediately. "Downscale if you have one. She'd spot a fake Rolex in a second and it wouldn't fit her recollection of me."

"Blue collar white collar criminal?" Jones asked, amused.

"I'll just say I didn't look like the cover of GQ," Neal said with a self deprecating smile. "More than jeans and a T-shirt but less than a Devore."

"When can you be ready?" Diana asked.

"How soon can you get the watch?" Neal asked in return.

"I'll see if we can get it today."

 

It took a few hours but the tech department came up with a watch that was deemed suitable and Neal's button down shirt, khakis and loafers completed the look of a successful but low key thief.

"You sure about waiting for her?" Diana asked after a last minute run through in the van down the street from Tabitha's.

"It'll give me a bit of an edge," Neal said. "She won't be expecting it." He looked at his handler, a smile touching his mouth. "We'll get her and the painting," he said. "It's what we do, right?" With a last nod from Diana, Neal stepped out of the van and made his way to the third floor walk-up that Moz had given as Tabitha's base of operations. The lock was just short of a joke in Neal's opinion and he was soon inside, looking around at the living room which contained a couch that sagged slightly but was still sturdy, two almost threadbare wing chairs and a slightly scratched coffee table. Neal's brows rose, seeing blueprints of the Channing along with what appeared to be camera locations and guard schedules. "There's enough here to bring her in," he said, dragging a chair around so it faced the door.

"She may not give up the painting if we do," Diana said in his ear.

"You know we could be here a while," Neal said, settling in to wait. Moz had informed them that Tabitha had left about half an hour earlier - probably to meet her potential buyer.

"As long as it takes, you know that."

As he waited, he scanned the room, cataloging the places the painting could be hidden but made no move to look - they needed her on audio saying she had it.

It wasn't long before Neal heard the lock rattle slightly as a key was inserted and the door opened, showing their suspect. "Hello Tabitha...or is it Alexa?"

"Neal Caffrey," Tabitha said, her gaze drifting around the room and resting fractionally on the coffee table. "What brings you here?"

"I heard you acquired a new piece," Neal said. "What was it? A Degas? Kandinsky? Or maybe a Van Gogh?"

Tabitha snorted derisively. "None of them. That's what everyone goes after. Too much competition."

"So what was it?"

"Why do you want to know?"

Neal shrugged. "Just curious," he said. "Why? You think I'll take it?"

"It's not high profile enough for you," Tabitha said, leaning back against the door. She studied him for a minute as if to gauge his motives and Neal kept his expression bland with a touch of interest. "It's a Haustenberg," she said. "From the Channing. _Young Girl With Locket_. Ever hear of it?"

"I have," Neal said. "I also heard the Channing had a reproduction."

"The curator authenticated it," Tabitha said. "And he's the expert."

"That's what I'd heard," Neal said. "But if it's been authenticated..." He tilted his head a little. "You have it here or have you moved it?"

"Buyer's getting twitchy," Tabitha said. "So, no, I haven't moved it yet. In the meantime, it's safe where it is."

"You didn't answer my question," Neal said. "You're usually not so cagey."

"Usually I'm not dealing with a world class conman and thief," Tabitha shot back.

Neal couldn't help the smile at the rejoinder but said, "I'm not interested in a Haustenberg. Like you said, not high profile enough for me. I have my eye on something bigger."

Tabitha gave him a narrow look but replied, "Yeah, it's here. I'll leave it to you to figure out where."

"We got it Neal. Good job. Engle's on his way up. Hold her there for a few more minutes."

"I think I could figure it out," Neal said to Tabitha. "You're good thief but sometimes you lack subtlety."

Tabitha rolled her eyes and moved away from the door. "So, what about you? What are you going after?"

"You know I don't give details," Neal said. "That way, no one gets the jump on me." At Tabitha's scowl, he had to grin. "You're still mad about the Raphael," he said.

"I had a buyer all lined up for that and you came in and took it before anyone knew you were even in town," She was startled when a knock came at the door.

"You might want to get that," Neal said, rising.

Tabitha frowned at him but opened the door to see Johnathon there, badge displayed. She rounded on Neal. "You're a _snitch_?" she asked, outraged as she was cuffed.

"I've been out of the life for years," Neal said, crouching by the coffee table - he'd caught her tell when she'd come in. "But that doesn't mean I can't still play the game." He stood, holding the painting, turning it so she could see the back. "Told you it was a reproduction," he said. "I painted it more than ten years ago. The original is where it belongs."

Still sputtering, Tabitha was led out as her rights were read and Neal followed with the painting, leaving the rest for the evidence techs.

The rest of the day was spent interrogating and processing Tabitha along with filling out and writing reports. "Hey Caffrey," she said as she was led out. "Why'd you turn?"

"I got busted," Neal said. "It was either this or prison." She didn't look satisfied with his answer but Neal wasn't inclined to elaborate.

 

Just as they were about to leave for the day, Neal got a call from Elizabeth. "You busy tonight?"

"Nothing planned," Neal said. "Why?"

"Is he there?"

Neal gestured to Johnathon, indicating he wait, understanding that's who she meant. "Yeah, he is. My place?"

"If you don't mind," Elizabeth said.

"Not at all," Neal said. "We're just about to leave so we should be there soon." After Elizabeth hung up, he turned to Johnathon. "Elizabeth wants to talk," he said. "At the loft."

"Neutral ground," Johnathon said with a nod. He gestured to the door. "Let's not keep the lady waiting."

 

They arrived only a few minutes before Elizabeth and Neal busied himself pouring them each a glass of midrange wine as the others found seats.

"So...you're Johnathon," Elizabeth said, accepting a glass with a nod of thanks to Neal. "I imagine you have as many questions as I do."

"I think that's a fair assessment," Johnathon said.

Elizabeth looked at him, shaking her head slightly. "You look just like him," she said softly.

"If you're not ready..." Johnathon began.

"No...no, I am," Elizabeth said. "It's just...I didn't know how I'd feel about this."

After that, it was easier and the three of them fell easily into conversation - Johnathon telling her of his boyhood in Ohio, his short minor league career and Elizabeth telling him of her business, how she'd met Peter and their life together. Neal noticed how she glossed over that last year, recounting the good and not so good times. She even told him how "Burke's Seven" had pulled off a con on some foreign prince who'd been in league with a hired hit man. When Johnathon corrected her terminology, she said, "Con...sting, same thing. Right Neal?"

"That's what I told Peter but he insisted it was a sting," Neal said.

After a while, Neal left them to start preparing a simple dinner, even though it hadn't been discussed. He'd long since learned to be flexible in his plans and besides, it had been a while since he'd cooked for more than himself.

"Neal, sweety, you don't have to..." Elizabeth said as the aromas began to filter through the loft.

"Not a problem, Elizabeth," Neal said. "I don't mind. Really."

"Did she actually hide you from the Marshals?" Johnathon asked.

Neal grinned as he stirred the contents of the pan. "Yeah, she did," he said. "Distracted them so I could sneak past...with mild and cookies, no less."

"I have my moments," Elizabeth said. "Although Peter wasn't too pleased with me at the time."

"But he forgave you," Neal said, setting the table and dishing the food out.

"After you explained what was going on."

"I think it was after I showed him the bug in your phone," Neal said.

"Your phone was bugged?" Johnathon asked as they seated themselves at the table. "Who? And why?"

"An OPR agent out of DC," Neal said, refilling their glasses. "Not exactly clean." Knowing he was interested, Neal and Elizabeth told him an edited version of the story of the music box.

"As interesting as that was, I hope we don't get too many cases like that," Johnathon said when they finished.

"That was a very special case," Neal said. "The man behind the whole thing is dead."

"Who was it?"

"Vincent Adler."

"The billion dollar Ponzi scheme guy?"

"The same," Neal said. "I met him when Moz and I targeted him for a long con. As you can see, it fell apart when he skipped with the money. Took every last cent I and Kate had."

"The end of Neal's first year with Peter was...hard," Elizabeth said.

"He was responsible for Kate's - my girlfriend - murder," Neal said. "And Mozzie's shooting."

"Adler's dead," Johnathon said. "And I'm guessing Peter shot him." Neal nodded. "Then Peter was put on leave while the Bureau investigated to see if it was a righteous kill."

"They cleared him because he was protecting an unarmed civilian...me," Neal said. "Alder was about to kill me when Peter took the shot."

"All that for a music box?"

"It wasn't just the box," Neal said. "It was what it led to. There was a code inside that led to a sunken U-boat stuffed with Nazi plunder, missing since World War Two. Adler found it before we did then forced Peter and I to disarm the explosives on the hatch. Once he got what he wanted, he had us drugged and we came to tied up in a dry dock, which he then proceeded to flood."

"So where's the box now?"

"The Russians got it back," Neal said. "I'd gone after it years before, when Peter was still chasing me. It was supposed to be a three man job but we were short one so it fell apart."

"Kate was supposed to be the third," Elizabeth said.

"She was supposed to be but she'd left in a snit when I brought Alex into it," Neal said. He smiled a little at Elizabeth's look of surprise. "Had a lot of time to think this last time inside," he said. "I realized Kate had been playing me all that time. The first time I talked to her after Peter got me out, the first thing she asked me was where my stash was. She knew about my deal even though she didn't have the resources or contacts to find out, she wouldn't tell me what Adler wanted even when I asked outright and she wanted me constantly looking over my shoulder." His smile turned a little rueful. "Peter tried to tell me but I didn't want to listen."

"You loved her," Elizabeth said.

"I thought I did," Neal said. "I think I was in love with who I thought she was." He let out a breath then, to lighten the mood, he asked, "So, want to tell more embarrassing stories about Peter?"

It was getting late when Elizabeth said she really had to get back to Satchmo. "I think I've left him alone long enough," she said. She gave Johnathon a smile. "It was nice meeting you," she said. "I just wish Peter could have gotten to know you."

"Same here," Johnathon said. "You have a good night."

"Neal, thank you for this and the wonderful dinner," she said, giving him a hug.

"Glad to do it," Neal said, returning the hug.

"I should get going myself," Johnathon said after Elizabeth left. "Thank you for this. I feel I know my brother much better now."

"If you and Elizabeth want to do this again, you're more than welcome," Neal said. "Just say the word."

Johnathon nodded his thanks. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said then took his leave.

 

As he readied for bed, Neal reflected on the past few days. He'd lost Peter due to his anger and quest for revenge but with Johnathon it was like he'd been given a second chance to get it right. He'd learned some hard lessons since he'd run the last time but he knew he'd needed to learn them.

As he stood at the terrace door, looking out at the view, he thought he caught a glimpse of his former handler - his face identical but just a little bit different from Johnathon's - and lifted his wineglass in salute. "I think you would have liked him Peter," he said softly. "And it's almost like having you back with him here. I wish you could have met him before it was too late but..." He paused, not sure if what he'd heard was his imagination.

"He's a good man. Like you. I'm proud of you, Neal. Remember that."

Neal let out the breath he hadn't been aware he was holding, setting his glass on the table as he passed on the way to bed. As he shut off the lights, he looked out one last time and saw Peter, sitting at one of the tables like he'd done so many times before. "Just remember - he's not me."

"I know that," Neal said. "I'll do better this time."

"I know and you have."

Neal climbed into bed, his last sight before he drifted off to sleep was of Peter looking up at the stars, his expression peaceful.

**Author's Note:**

> The Dayton Dragons is an actual minor league baseball team, farm team for the Cincinnati Reds. As in the story, they have the longest sellout streak of any team, any sport, any league. As of the end of the 2017 season that streak stands at 1246 games.


End file.
